


Brave

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Gen, this is either angst or fluff or something in between
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-06 23:25:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1876491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You are so brave and quiet I forget you are suffering.” ― Ernest Hemingway</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brave

**Author's Note:**

> For the Star Spangled Exchange on Tumblr. A very happy birthday to Steve Rogers, and as for fabelschwester, my wonderful assignment - I hope you enjoy!
> 
> I'd also apologize, the word count is just about 100 words below 1500, and I hope that doesn't cause any problems. I tried to squeeze in more adjectives, but it all just sounded forced and wrong. I hope that the final piece isn't nearly as clunky as I fear it may be.

“You are so brave and quiet I forget you are suffering.” ― Ernest Hemingway

 

Though the cold wind bit at Steve's skin, he held the pencil still in his hand, contemplating his next line. Despite his inability to percieve the exact colour of his subject, Steve could make out his facial features quite well. Bucky's mouth curved upwards in his sleep, so slightly that Steve had failed several times already to capture it on the paper in front of him. The wind gust again, blowing in through the window and fluttering a few discarded papers around. Steve shivered, almost muttered to himself, but managed to hold back his words in fear when he saw Bucky stir. His well-defined arm moved outwards, reaching out of the blanket and grasping for something in front of him.

As quickly as it had shot out, however, Bucky's hand had dropped, and Steve's breath returned to him. It only took a few moments of deep breathing to regain his composure, and when his heart rate returned to normal, his hand had stopped shaking, and Steve was able to touch pencil to paper once more. Carefully, he moved away from Bucky's mouth and began adding the shadow of the constant bags under his friend's eyes. Steve couldn't be quite sure, but it seemed likely he had bags under his eyes as well, though because neither of them would admit how tired they were to the other, he had never asked Bucky if he looked it. It simply wasn't in Steve's nature to want anyone to know he was suffering. Not that Bucky needed to be told. Bucky, who had always been by his side, who had sighed and shook his head a thousand times after pulling Steve, bloodied and bruised, from the mud. Bucky who had opened his (albeit, small) home to him now Steve was alone. It still felt odd to think that he was the last remaining member of his family.

How could it have only been six hours? Steve's entire world was somehow beyond understanding today. A few thoughts stuck out to him, though what may have been the most important events were already vague. Steve foggily remembered stumbling from the cemetary alone, telling off a man who was hollering at a lady. He remembered the crunch of gravel as his face collided with the sidewalk. And he remembered Bucky hoisting him up by his arm, though the faint, unintelligable words he had spoken were lost. Perhaps he had told him off for being reckless. Bucky did that a lot. 'Because he cares about you.' Steve thought to himself numbly. In all honesty, Steve had hoped the pain from getting into a fight would have awoken him from this nightmare, but to his dismay, he was barely even hit before Bucky stepped in, and despite his wishes, he was already wide awake.

He hadn't let Bucky see the true span of his emotions that afternoon, and if he was able to stay strong enough on his own tonight... tomorrow, Steve would never have to. The thought of having to keep it bottled up made the lump in Steve's throat grow tighter, as if in protest, but Bucky had already done more than enough for him, and so Steve would save him the trouble of this particular fight. After all, it was the only fight he could hope to hide the injuries of.

'Besides,' Steve thought bitterly, 'there isn't exactly anyone Buck can beat up for letting my parents die, not unless we can take down all the Germans ourselves.' Steve cursed them a few times in his head, and then cursed himself when he felt hot tears burning behind his eyes. He gripped his pencil tight, knuckles whitening on his fist.

Suddenly, there was a crack, and Steve nearly jumped out of his seat.

The pencil lead had broke under the pressure of his grip, and a thick smudge was now distorting the drawing underneath it.

"Damn it." Steve cursed, and to his horror, his voice broke. The tears were on him in a second. He had held back all day through the funeral, through everything. He had fought so hard. And now here he was, fighting still to be silent, fighting for breath, fighting to be brave. Steve didn't know how long he was gasping for, but when he opened his eyes, the drawing was damp and smudged, his hands were wet, and his lungs hurt. There was also a hand on his back, and a voice. Bucky's voice.

"...first time I've ever seen you cry, I think. You gotta breath, okay, Steve? Don't wanna have to carry you to the hospital."

Steve hiccuped. The tears stopped as abruptly as they had come, and gradually the shaking stopped as well, and Steve found his voice.

"S-sorry." Steve gasped. His chest still hurt, and his stomach was in knots, but he did his best to not let on. "Didn't mean to wake you up."

Bucky laughed quietly, his breath was almost directly in Steve's ear. The proximity usually would have made Steve blush, but his face was so flushed already, there was no way to tell if he was reddening any further. Bucky didn't seem to be aware of quite the effect he was having on his friend, however. He continued to speak in a low but bemused voice.

"You really just apologize? I can't believe you, you know that, Rogers?"

"I didn't mean to-" Steve had to pause to take a deep breath and sniffle. "-Cause any trouble."

"You've caused me trouble every day I've known you." Bucky smiled softly. "But I guess I kind of signed up for that, didn't I? Falling in league with a punk like you." He squeezed Steve's shoulder and went to sit on the edge of the bed, leaning forward. Steve's eyes followed him the whole way. Somehow, even without really comforting him, Bucky always managed to calm Steve down. He always knew what to say. And when not to say anything. So Bucky and Steve sat, neither of them quite sure if they should make eye contact. Finally, Steve looked up from his hands, took a shaky breath and spoke.

"Jerk."

He smiled, knowing Bucky would take no offense at the jab. Still, what Bucky said next was something of a shock to Steve. 

"I really do care about you, y'know."

Bucky's words tumbled out fast, and he seemed to be addressing the floor - Steve was barely able to make the sentence out at first - and they were followed by a long silence.

When Steve had had enough silence and he was quite sure he had decoded Bucky's words properly, he spoke carefully, trying desperately to keep his voice even despite how tightly he could feel his throat becoming once more.

"What was it you said to me this afternoon? I'm with you..."

"Till the end of the line." They finished together.

Bucky smiled again, finding it in himself to look back up at Steve, who was returning his smile with a rather more watery one of his own.  
Steve's smile suddenly dropped and his eyebrows wrinkled together when he shivered as another gust of wind slipped through the window, chilling his wet face. The shiver turned into a yawn.

Kicking his bare feet up onto the bed, Bucky beckoned for Steve to join him. 

"You're gonna freeze over there. C'mon. The last thing I need is to have a popsicle for a best friend." Steve smiled and obliged, putting his now-dampened sketchbook on the floor to the side of the bed, and crawling in next to Bucky. He pulled the thin wool blanket around himself, and felt one of Bucky's arms pull him close, and soon thereafter, Steve's breathing had evened out. Tomorrow, he would be brave again, Steve though. For now though, he would allow himself a break. Snuggled up against Bucky's chest, Steve admitted to himself how much he sometimes needed someone to protect him. Someone to console him even when he fought so hard to hide his pain. Whether he had asked for it or not, Bucky had become that person for him. And he couldn't think of anyone else who could do it half as well.


End file.
